


born to be bad

by foursetsofcorsets, pondify



Category: Rent - Larson, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, F/M, Female Reader, Flirting, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Reader Has A GREAT Ass, Reader Is Not Frisk, Romance, no prior knowledge of rent is needed, sort of a Rent AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9163510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foursetsofcorsets/pseuds/foursetsofcorsets, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pondify/pseuds/pondify
Summary: You suppress another shiver as you reach out to rap on the unfamiliar door. You hate to impose, but the shitty landlord cut your heat off again and there wasn’t a single match in your apartment.This candle isn’t going to light itself,you supposed, so now here you are, at your downstairs neighbor’s apartment.The door swings open to reveal a skeleton monster wearing a black hoodie, jeans, and fuzzy pink slippers, looking sleepy.“what’d’ja forget, paps?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! hope you enjoyed <33 the song is light my candle from the broadway musical rent (my alltime favorite musical, which bOTH OF US WILL BE SEEING TOGETHER THIS MONTH OH MY GOD???????) and han (pondify) and i will hopefully be posting some more sans/reader stuff soon!!! 
> 
> \- august xo (foursetsofcorsets)

You suppress another shiver as you reach out to rap on the unfamiliar door. You hate to impose, but the shitty landlord cut your heat off again and there wasn’t a single match in your apartment.  _ This candle isn’t going to light itself _ , you supposed, so now here you are, at your downstairs neighbor’s apartment. You’re pretty sure he’s some kind of musician, and you’ve smelled more than a few burning barrels coming from his apartment, but other than that you don’t know much about him.

The door swings open to reveal a skeleton monster wearing a black hoodie, jeans, and fuzzy pink slippers, looking sleepy.

“what’d’ja forget, paps?” he asks in a rough voice before realizing that whoever ‘Paps’ is, you’re not them. It suddenly occurs to you that you don’t even know his name. You smile sheepishly and hold your candle out in front of you.

“Uh… got a light?” you say shyly.

His eyes widen as he looks you up and down. “hang on, i know you -- woah, you’re shivering,” he says abruptly.

You shrug one shoulder and cross your arms to hide your trembling hands. “It’s nothing, they just turned off my heat,” you say dismissively, although the shivering has gotten more intense and you have to steady yourself against the doorframe. “Sorry, I’m just feeling a little weak. Would you light my candle?”

You hold the candle out again, but the skeleton just looks at you, his eyes not moving from your face. There’s a somewhat lengthy pause, in which you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. “… What are you staring at?” you finally ask.

He shakes his head as if he’s coming out of a daydream and color rushes to his cheekbones, a startling shade of cerulean. “n-nothing,” he stammers quickly. 

Raising one eyebrow, you give him a look, and his skull starts sweating a little. “your, uh, your hair in the moonlight,” he explains, and his blue blush deepens, his face almost glowing. It’s kinda cute. The skeleton fumbles around for a second before finding the matchbox and pulling it out of his sweater pocket. “y’know, you look familiar,” he remarks as he strikes the match and holds it next to the wick of the candle.

You purse your lips as the candle lights, illuminating both of your faces in its dim, flickering glow. That’s the second time he’s made that comment, and it makes you no less uncomfortable than the first time. Wordlessly, you turn to leave, but your shaking has grown worse, and you stumble slightly as a wave of dizziness overtakes you. You reach out to steady yourself on the doorframe once again, blinking hard. 

“can you make it?” the monster asks you, concern edging his low voice.

With a sigh, you nod, turning back around towards him. “I’ll be fine, just haven’t eaten much today,” you say. It’s not technically a lie -- hunger is one of several reasons why you might be shaking. “At least the room’s stopped spinning.” You punctuate this sentence with a short, bitter laugh, and notice that he’s staring at you again. “What?”

“nothing,” he says again, and you frown, but he continues. “your smile reminded me of…”

“I always 'remind people of…’” you interrupt him, rolling your eyes a bit. You do get that a lot in your line of work. Forgetting that you were about to leave, you hold your lit candle carefully, taking a cautious step further into the room. “Who?”

“she died,” the skeleton explains, the corners of his mouth tugging downward as he looks away. 

_ Oh god _ , you think. You did not sign up for that conversation.

“her name was --” he begins, but you have just enough presence of mind to discreetly pinch the lit candle wick between your thumb and forefinger and hold it out in front of you.

“It’s out again,” you interrupt. He looks at you with a startled expression that makes you wince.  _ So that might have been a little bit insensitive… _ “I’m sorry,” you amend, holding out your candle. “Um, could you light it again, please?”

His expression shutters, and he pulls out another match, striking it harder this time and lighting your candle quickly. “well,” he says, shoving his hands back in his pockets and shrugging, clearly having more to say although he’s restraining himself.

“Yeah?” you prompt the skeleton, looking him directly in the eyes, when all of a sudden you hiss and pull your right hand away from the candle. The hot wax had dripped onto your finger and burned you, and you resist the temptation to put your fingers in your mouth to soothe the pain.

“what happened?” he says immediately, stepping close to you and taking your hand between both of his. Your heart stutters when he gingerly turns your hand over to examine it and his fingertips brush your skin. His eyes intent on your hand, he mutters, “just the wax.”

You study his face for a moment.  _ Maybe it would be fun to mess with him a little,  _ you think. So you brush your knuckles against his chin, tilting his face up, and lower your voice as you say, “I actually really like playing with hot wax…” You let your voice get slower as you continue, “I love the way it drips… down… my…” Leaning closer, you bite your lip suggestively, paying attention to the way his bright eyes dart down to watch your teeth drag across your lip.

The skeleton’s face is flushed incredibly blue, and his slender fingers encircle your wrist loosely but firmly. “fingers,” he supplies as he gently tugs your hand away from his face, taking a small step back. “h-heh, i figured.” He gestures toward the door, avoiding your glance and turning away from you. “uh, goodnight.”

_ Bummer, _ you think. Pressing your lips together, you nod jerkily and step past him, heading for the door. As you leave, you pretend not to notice how quickly he shuts the door behind you. Truth be told, that stings -- but only a little.

Before you begin the climb back up to your apartment, you slip your hand into your pocket, expecting to find a small plastic bag there, but instead you find nothing. Your heart stops. You whip around, the candle’s flame reduced to a wisp of smoke as you do so, and bang on the door in panic. The skeleton opens it looking surprised, but, thankfully, not exasperated.

“it blew out again?” he ventures, somehow raising an eyebrow. 

You shake your head frantically. “I think that I dropped my stash!” you say too loudly, peering around the room. 

He winces, watching as you search urgently for your bag. “look, kid, i know i’ve seen you before…” He trails off, and when you don’t reply, he huffs. “your, uh, candle’s out.”

Groaning in frustration, you straighten from where you’re bent over the table and shoot him a look. “I had it when I came in,” you mutter, half to yourself. “I just got it, I can’t have lost it -- is it on the floor?” You drop to your hands and knees, scrambling to find what you’re looking for.

“the… the floor?” He sounds distracted, and you smirk when you realize why.

Taking the opportunity that’s clearly laid in front of you, you pose, shamelessly raising your ass higher in the air and glancing back over your shoulder flirtatiously at him. “They say I have the best ass below 14th Street. Is it true?” you purr, enjoying the way his face glows the brightest blue yet. He really is adorable.

His eyes snap up to your face from where they were clearly lingering on your butt, and he clears his throat quickly. “uh…”

“You’re staring again, bone boy,” you say smugly, turning to face him and sitting on the floor.

“ah, shit,” he says, clearly embarrassed as he chuckles and scratches his skull. “i mean, y’do have a nice - hold on a sec, you never answered me earlier. have i seen you somewhere before? ‘cause you really do look familiar.”

He’s not letting this go, is he? “Like your dead girlfriend?” Your tone is light and teasing, but the comment is intended as a jab. Why won’t he just leave it alone?

“nah, it was only when you smiled,” he says seriously, brow furrowed -- how exactly  _ does  _ he do that? -- as he scrutinizes you. “i know i’ve seen you somewhere.”

You sigh in defeat. “Do you go to the Glitterbox?” you ask flatly. “I’m a dancer there. Now will you  _ please  _ help me look?”

His eye sockets light up in recognition. “yeah, that’s it,” he laughs as he leans casually against the table and ignores your request. “didn’t they used to tie you up?”

“It’s a living,” you mutter. Now you’re the one who’s mortified, turning away to search for your bag but not having much luck in the dark apartment.

“i didn’t recognize you without the handcuffs.” The skeleton lifts his hands above his head and crosses them at the wrists in demonstration, grinning broadly at you. You scowl in return, blushing, but it doesn’t faze him at all -- instead, his grin just seems to stretch wider.

Giving up on trying to look for your bag in the darkness, you hold your candle up to him. “Would you light it again?” you ask, only halfway meeting his eyes.

He pulls out his matchbox yet again, taking out another match. “you know, you should drop that stuff,” he says, his expression unreadable as he lights it and holds it close to the wick of your candle. “you look a little young to be doing all that… dancing.”

Indignation flares in you, as hot as the newly lit flame of your candle, but you push it aside. “I’m not  _ that  _ young,” you say, getting up at last, careful not to let your candle go out. “I’m nineteen, but I’m old for my age.”

“oh, yeah?” His grin tilts into a smirk, and it’s pleasantly distracting from your current problem.

“I’m just born to be bad,” you flirt, lowering your eyelids.

“heh, i used to be too, kid. i used to shiver like you all the time --”

You roll your eyes, but you feel shame curling inside of you. Is it that obvious? “I told you, they cut off my heat --”

“i used to sweat,” he presses, fixing you with a hard stare, and you blink.

“I-I have a cold,” you lie quickly, but not quickly enough. You were literally looking for your drugs a minute ago, you aren’t fooling anyone. 

The skeleton hums, clearly disbelieving. “i’m not stupid,” he says, not unkindly. “i was a junkie, too.”

“I’m not a junkie, I just…” You flounder for a moment, avoiding his gaze as you grasp at straws for an excuse, but, in truth, you don’t really have one. Not one that this skeleton has any business knowing, anyway. So you sidle up to him, biting your lip. “I just like to have a little fun,” you say lowly, touching his thigh in a flash of bravery.

He blushes lightly, and you see his eyes slide past you, focusing on something behind you. After a moment, he frowns, straightening off the table, which forces you to take your hand away from his leg. You’re a little disappointed, but it fades when you see his left eye ignite, a blue glow emanating from within the socket. It’s fascinating.

You turn to look behind you, to see what he’s looking at, but there’s nothing there. A question on your lips, you look back at him just in time to see him tuck something into his back pocket, his hand glowing faintly blue.

“What was that?” you ask suspiciously.

“nothing. candy bar wrapper,” he says easily, although he doesn’t look at you. 

You don’t believe him, not in the slightest. He definitely has your stash, but there’s no way he’d just give it to you outright, so you’ll have to play it sneaky.

Shifting closer, you brush your thumb against his hipbone and watch him try to contain a shudder. “We could light the candle,” you say flirtatiously, raising your eyebrows for effect as you hold your candle in the small space between the two of you.

The skeleton places his hand over yours on the candle, lifting it until the flame illuminates his skull, the light flickering across the white bone. He meets your gaze across the flame, a grin on his face that sends a chill zipping down your spine, and once again his eye glows that mysterious blue. The candle’s flame peters out, a thin trail of smoke rising from the wick, and the air around you seems to be almost humming with magic.

_ Holy hell.  _

You’re breathless and trying not to smile as you say teasingly, “Well, what’d you do that for?”

“whoops,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly, but his grin matches yours. “that was my last match.”

“Our eyes’ll adjust eventually -- thank god for the moon,” you remark.

He hums again, the sound low and smooth, giving you goosebumps. “i don’t think that’s the moon, kid, i heard mettaton’s got a film crew shooting down the street,” he says as he leans against the table again.

You sit beside him, your hand accidentally brushing against his. “Bah humbug,” you say softly.

“cold hands,” he murmurs, taking your hand in his as you go to pull away and intertwining your fingers.

“Yours too,” you breathe in response. His palm pressing against yours has your heart thumping erratically. “Your hands are big, just like my father’s,” you muse as you pull his hand closer to your face, grazing your lips over his knuckles.

He gives you an odd look, chuckling quietly, though his gaze softens as it lingers on you. 

You set down your candle and stand abruptly, turning to face him. “Do you want to dance?” you say brightly, stepping back and spreading your arms, though his hand is still clutched in yours, the bones warming slightly from the prolonged contact.

“with you?” he jokes, although he seems a bit hesitant, getting up more slowly than you. He’s around the same height as you, no more than two inches taller -- the perfect height, you think.

“No,” you say, deadpan, and he raises his browbone in confusion, letting go of your hand and letting his fall. “With my father,” you add, sarcasm bleeding into your voice.

He laughs outright at that, his apparent uncertainty melting as he meets you in the middle of the room. “i’m sans,” he says, winding his arms around your waist. 

You smooth your hands over his broad, strong shoulders and sway your hips in time to a beat only you can hear, but Sans is quick to follow. Leaving one arm draped around his shoulders, you snake your other hand down his waist and press even closer to the skeleton, sneaking your hand into his back pocket.  _ Aha. _

“They call me _______,” you whisper, your faces a breath apart. Your eyes meet, and then your eyelids slip shut as you lean in and kiss him. You register that, although his mouth is hard, it’s warm, and that distinct feeling of magic surrounds you again. At the same time, your fingers catch against the edge of your bag, and you pinch it between your thumb and pointer, hearing him make a noise of surprise -- though whether it’s because of your kiss or he’s noticed your hand in his pocket, you don’t know.

Just as he begins to kiss you back (a sensation you immediately know you’d like to experience again), you pull out of his arms, tugging the bag out of his pocket and dangling it in front of his face with a smirk.

Sans rolls his eyes. Wordlessly, he takes the bag from you and tosses it on the table. You’re about to protest, but he places his hands on your hips and pulls you in to kiss you again.

Well, who needs candles, anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> follow us on tumblr! 
> 
> [beatwithoutmelody.tumblr.com](http://beatwithoutmelody.tumblr.com)
> 
> [sunshinetheaugust.tumblr.com](http://sunshinetheaugust.tumblr.com)


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